


This was supposed to be a Ficlet, I swear

by YoungMrKusuma



Series: The Naekawa Project [7]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), F/M, Fluff, I'M GONNA MAKE THIS SHIP SAIL IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO, Rarepair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 03:34:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14276052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoungMrKusuma/pseuds/YoungMrKusuma
Summary: Yeah...





	This was supposed to be a Ficlet, I swear

**Author's Note:**

> As you can tell from the title, things didn’t quite go like I’d planned with this one. Anyone who’s been following me on tumblr can tell you that I’ve had this in the works for far longer than it should. And it ended up being a lot lengthier than I expected. It’s too big to be a [ficlet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9246716) (though it is plotted like one), so I decided to class it as a full story instead.
> 
> Before we dive right in, there is something I should say: none of the names I used in this story are references to real life people, novels or entities. Any similarities are completely coincidental.

Sometimes, if you ever wanted proof that there was no justice in this world, all you have to do is open a book.

More specifically, open any book written by Aki Kitamura, who Fukawa considered to be easily the worst authoress in all of Japan. Never mind that she'd actually gotten _paid_ to write such absolute fucking garbage (all while better and more deserving writers struggled to even get published); she'd somehow managed to make millions selling her trash to empty-headed teenage girls. And lonely middle-aged women.

Critical reception of her works was atrocious – one critic declaring them a virulent pox on the literary world – and still Kitamura-san continued to make money, writing her way into penthouse suites and movie adaptations and sponsorship deals. Leaving behind putrid novels by the dozens every single year.

 _Breaking the Shackles_ – which was supposedly her least awful – was no different. Wooden characters, terrible dialogue, motivations that made no sense and plot elements recycled beat for beat from her previous books. The only reason Fukawa was bothering with this tripe was because there really wasn't anything else in this library for her to read. She'd been coming here every week since she was eleven, and she had already devoured most of the romance section herself.

The rest of the other books she hadn't sampled had already been loaned out to other patrons. Leaving her with only this crap.

~~~

_“I love you! I need you!!” Reiko cried severely, standing her ground. But even this was not reason enough for Tamaki to pause. He continued to walk away._

_“It's a shame that I don't,” he lied, keeping his expression unchanged._

~~~

Fukawa lifted her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. Stilted dialogue aside, that was _not_ the proper use of the word 'severely'.  Also, if Tamaki hadn't stopped walking away from Reiko, how were they continuing to have this conversation? Was he shouting at her? They'd be too far away to hear each other otherwise.

~~~

_Reiko didn't get it. Things were going so well before. What had gone wrong? Was it something she did? Why was he being so awful to her?_

~~~

“Maybe it's because you're a whiny, insufferable twat,” Fukawa muttered under her breath. That, and because Tamaki was both an idiot and an asshole. Plain and simple. This lie of his was completely unnecessary, except for creating forced tension. It made no sense. There was no reason whatsoever for anyone to give a crap about their 'relationship' when both these morons were as unlikable as each other.

~~~

Lie _, Tamaki told himself, fighting back tears._ Lie to save her _._

 

And Goddamn you God _, he thought,_ for putting me in this position.

~~~

She slammed the book shut, unwilling to read any further. Seriously? “Goddamn you God”?? That was the best Kitamura-san could come up with? Fukawa was _done_. No fucking more. Dear god, how did this even get past the publishers? It was horrendous. Who approved this drivel?? Did they even read the damn thing? Clearly whoever said yes to it had no idea what they were smo-

A soft chuckle. “You really don't like that book, do you?” Naegi whispered, from the other side of the table.

Sarcastically: “What gave you that i-impression?”

It was a weekly habit of theirs to come here at least once, ever since they started going out. Naegi was – much to Fukawa's surprise – the one who suggested it. She knew he occasionally liked to read from time to time (he had already gone through about half of her own bibliography by this point), but she didn't think it was something he particularly enjoyed. At least, not enough to come here with her every week to do it.

Or maybe it was the company he enjoyed. Either way worked for her.

“I think you'd be happier reading something else, Fukawa-san,” he said. “Why force yourself through something you can't stand?”

“W-well, there is s-some value in novels like these,” she explained. “For one thing, you can l-learn how _not_ to write.”

He gave her a sideways glance. “Is that why you're reading it? I would have thought after all the books you've published, you wouldn't have any need for that.”

Fukawa shook her head. “That's not true. T-there's always something new to learn. Even for m-me.” She looked at the novel scornfully. “For instance, you can l-learn just how low the standards of some p-publishers can be.”

He chuckled again. “Is it really that bad? I mean, I've seen it, and has some pretty big problems. But overall, I thought it was okay.”

She rolled her eyes. “ _Everything_ is okay to you, Naegi.”

In her boyfriend's defence, there was some benefit to him being so... _blasé_ about quality. It left him very open-minded to whatever novels she might suggest – even obscure titles that no one else but her seemed to enjoy. The downside, of course, was that he was undeservedly kind towards anything he got his hands on.

“Now, that's not true!” He protested. “There're books I don't like too.”

“Oh yeah? N-name one.”

He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, then closed it. He opened it a second time and faltered again, embarrassed.

“I rest my case,” she said, smirking. “You’re too nice to everything! Books, Songs, whatever.” Before she could stop herself: “Hell, if you had even a modicum of good taste, you'd have found s-someone else by now and dumped me a-”

“Hey now.”

She blinked twice, uncomprehending at first. Then she realized what she'd said.

“Sorry,” she bit her lip. “F-force of habit.” For her own good, Fukawa had decided that she should at least _try_ and stop berating herself all the damn time. The trick to being happy was to be positive, or so Naegi told her. Considering that he was the happiest person she knew, he had to be onto something.

“That's not your fault,” he gave her a sympathetic look, reaching for her hand. “Wounds need time to heal, right?”

A sigh escaped her. “Yeah...” Then a small smile made its way onto her lips. “I s-suppose they do.” Across the table, their fingers met. He was always fond of these little gestures. She liked that.

They pulled apart just as the librarian – an aging woman with sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue – began making her rounds about their section. She was a shrewd old crone, this one; constantly on the lookout for any and all 'hanky-panky', as she put it. She was known for eyeballing every young couple who stepped in here, as if she expected them to start making out or fornicating behind the bookshelves the moment no one was watching. ( _Now_ there's _an idea for a story,_ Fukawa thought, mentally marking it down for later)

As soon as the librarian was gone: “W-What are you reading, anyway?”

Naegi held it up to her. The title read: _Everything is gonna be O.K! The value of Optimism in the modern world_. Fukawa started to laugh.

“I don’t know why I’m s-surprised,” she said. “You don’t really buy into that nonsense, do you?”

He grinned. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.” He closed it and offered it to her. “Here. Switch with me. Maybe you’ll find this a better use of your time.”

They did. Fifteen minutes later, Fukawa found herself reconsidering her opinion about what Naegi was reading. Maybe she’d been looking at things all wrong this whole time… Similarly, Naegi was reconsidering his opinion about Kitamura-san’s novel. There was a rather amusing grimace on his face.

“Wow, okay. This is way, way worse than I remembered.”

She snickered. “Told you so.” Then she shook her head. “I g-guess anyone can become an author these days.” She was about to go back to reading when he spoke again.

“Um… serious question.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think _I_ could?”

Fukawa looked up almost immediately.

It occurred to her that he might have been asking that jokingly, and for a moment, that was what she believed. But then she saw how bashful he was. Several seconds passed as she thought back to all those essays and reports she sometimes helped him with, all the little forgivable mistakes he made, and chose her next words carefully.

“Well… um… I-In all honesty,” she said, doing her best to be delicate, “I… don’t think you’re particularly good at writing…”

She saw an unmistakable pang of disappointment in his eyes.

“...but I don’t think you’re particularly bad at it, either,” she finished. And she meant it. Over the course of her helping him with his school reports and him reading all those books, Fukawa had seen a small but significant degree of improvement in his prose. He was willing to listen to critique when she gave it and seemed to take her advice to heart each time. It would probably have taken quite a while, but with some coaching, he could actually make for a competent writer. It became her turn to reach for his hand. “Why do you ask?”

His cheeks turned pink. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now… About trying my hand at this stuff, I mean. I’ve got a couple of story ideas, and I figured that since you’re really good at writing, that maybe I could start learning from you…”

He tapered off. All at once, Fukawa was elated and excited, her mind spinning with possibilities. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“It w-won’t be easy,” she said. “It’ll take l-long hours of practice.”

Naegi’s expression became one of relief. “That’s all right. I don’t mind.”

“And I won’t b-be cutting you any slack just because we’re dating. If your s-story sucks, I’m gonna give it to you straight.”

He chuckled. “Fine with me.”

“Alright then.”

A few seconds of peaceful silence descended, before she rose from her seat and pulled him into an embrace, making a delighted noise.

“I am so happy right now,” she said.

Naegi hugged her back. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up, if I were you. I might turn out to be a really crappy student.”

“You’ll be fine.” She buried her face into his shoulder. “I’ll teach you everything.”

She could start him off with the easy stuff; outlines, character development exercises, maybe world-building if he wanted to go the Fantasy or Sci-fi route. Then they could move on to short stories, to give him a chance to get comfortable with his writing style. But before that, they’d need to get him up to speed with his reading. There were a lot of novels that Naegi absolutely _had_ to see if he wanted to be good at this. Off the top of her head, Fukawa could already think of at least twenty.

There was so much for her to show him. So many things for him to learn. So many tips and tricks and strategies and-

“ _Ahem_.”

Both of them turned around, still in each other’s arms. Found the old librarian looking at them sternly, arms crossed and tapping her foot, as if she had just caught them doing something wrong. Fukawa’s mind drew a blank at first, same as Naegi. And then they realized why. Hugging, apparently, was risqué enough for her to be considered hanky-panky.

“Disappointing,” said the old woman, her gaze fixed on Fukawa. “And here I thought that you, little lady, were better than this.”

They were out on the street not three minutes later, ears hot and ringing from the librarian’s scolding. Just like many others before them. The few other patrons of the library on that warm summer’s day had taken notice of the commotion (it was hard not to, with all the yelling), and shaken their heads pityingly. “There she goes again,” one of them whispered. This was the third time someone was kicked out of here in the past week alone.

“And don’t come back,” she said, shaking her fist at them, “until you learn some self-control, you perverts!” The library doors slammed shut behind her as the librarian retreated inside.

Fortunately enough, there was no one else walking by at that moment to see or hear what just happened. Might have made for an even more embarrassing situation otherwise. It took a while before either Naegi or Fukawa was finally composed enough to speak. “Crazy old bat,” Fukawa muttered bitterly.

Her boyfriend mumbled something in agreement, still nursing his left ear.

“But then again, m-maybe this is for the best,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

She took a look at her watch. 3:17pm. It was still early in the day.

“W-well, since we can’t go back in there, we might as well get started on your t-training.” In an instant, she was happy again. “I-If you want to, I mean.” There was a light in her eyes. She looked about ready to burst with excitement. In all the time he had known her, Naegi had never seen her like this. It was adorable.

“Sure,” he beamed at her. “Why not?” Then took her arm. “We’ll need a place to sit. Any ideas?”

“Let’s just g-go to Sawashiro’s or something,” she shrugged. “I don’t feel like w-walking too far.”

They went. It was the last time they ever visited the library.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so. Two things:
> 
> 1) While the name ‘Aki Kitamura’ is – as I said in the beginning – not a reference to anyone in real-life, she is in fact a pastiche of several truly dreadful authors rolled into one. I won’t be mentioning who they are.
> 
> 2) Heavens above as my witness, I have actually seen with my own two eyes someone put the words ‘Goddamn you, God!’ to paper. In a best-selling novel, no less. I really, really wish I was kidding.


End file.
